


Show

by neaf



Category: Doug Anthony All Stars RPF
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard liked to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show

Richard liked to watch.

Even on the occasion when Tim's hands started to roam, and found more than just Richard's shoulder in comforting gestures on stage and off, it wasn't taken as any more than show.

Show for Paul, and Paul alone.

The flicker of venom in Paul's eyes was enough to let Richard know Tim's true intentions. It didn't matter much. Richard preferred to watch, anyway.

It'd be late at night before the shouting would start. And often Richard would creep from his bed and open the door enough to see through, fingering at the edge of his shirt with anticipation as the voices got louder and the language itself became more violent.

The shouting usually lasted five minutes, at best, before they were entwined in a thrashing heap on the floor or the bed. Tim would often hold Paul down and watch him struggle, just for the joy of it. Sitting on his chest, legs strewn either side, he would wait until the pointless thrashing stopped to slide his hips down until they met Paul's own.

And Tim would push the stiff jacket off Paul's shoulders and claw at the stained material of his shirt, fingers catching the hairs that trailed down below Paul's navel, hips slowly rocking as he cast the shirt aside. 

Paul's breath would catch in his throat, and stay there as Tim's roaming hands continued their warpath down his welcoming body, smoothly undoing buckle and belt and zip. 

Trembling hands clutching his shirt, Richard would hold his breath in the dark as he watched Paul's head fall back with eyes drawn closed, dreadlocks cast across his face and strewn up the pillows. Tiny gasps would follow as Tim's lips would gradually find neck and nipple, drawing lines with his tongue.

Tim's hands would push the pants over Paul's hips as his own lips moved lower, teeth grazing over soft skin. Paul would jolt, arching his back as Tim drew him into his mouth, moving slowly in warm circles. Richard would feel his own ache, and clutch his shirt still tighter as Paul would softly moan and Tim would sway with the movement of the act.

And in the dark, after an eternity of aching, Richard would close his eyes as Paul's low, deep moan would split the silence.

Richard wouldn't open his eyes until the light had gone out, and all sound had ceased. Only then would he release the indefinitely crumpled handfuls of his shirt and stagger slowly back to bed, trembling with heat and a deep-set ache that he himself would have to satisfy.

Richard had always liked to watch, you see, because it was watching Richard did best.


End file.
